Recovery
by Ialwaysshipthedoomedones
Summary: Set after Izzie's stabbing in series 2.
1. Chapter 1

_This world keeps spinning faster into a new disaster, so I run to you. I run to you, baby. And when it all starts coming undone, baby, you're the only one I run to. I run to you_

His feet barely make sounds across the sticky white hospital floor as he runs, pushing open doors, shoving past endless people in uniforms and some not. He's breathless and confused, his heart beating a hundred times a minute. he doesn't stop at reception, he doesn't ask for permission. Instead he brushes past the open doors. His eyes scouting the rooms until he sees her and suddenly, he is frozen.

His feet are rooted to the floor and everything seems to move in slow motion. He feels like part of a film for those brief few moments. Like the noises and sounds blur into one and everything surrounding him is faded and distant. All he can see is her and all she can see is darkness.

He hasn't cried a single tear. He clenches his teeth. He looks up. He tells himself that crying is weak. That he is better than that. So he swallows despite the lump in his throat, he blinks quickly, once, twice. And then he strides across to her lifeless form.

His exhausted body slumps beside her in the hard plastic chair. His eyes still haven't left her and with tender fingers he brushes a stray lock of hair from across her face. His teeth are still clenched, still forced shut while the tears threaten to fall more so by the second.

He counts the wires that surround her. He listens to the beeps of the machines.

He watches. He breathes. He lives.

All while knowing the only thing letting her do that is the wires attached to her scarred skin.

_"Bloody hell, Iz.. What were you.. How could you be so bloody stupid?!" _His hand bangs against the bed and the sheets flutter under his touch. He's angry. He doesn't think he's ever been so desperately, achingly angry. Why did she have to be so god damned nice? For once in her life couldn't she put herself first?

Anyone. _Anyone_ but her.

They should have been home, drinking beer, maybe having pizza. Anything, they could have been doing anything. But now he sits beside her bed with just the sound of machines for comfort.

_"Fucking hell Izzie." _His voice is loud again as he pushes himself up from the chair. Pacing, walking around the bed as though this would have a different effect some how. But it doesn't. He is useless. She is falling and he cannot catch her. He cannot save her.

Now as silent tears slide across his cheeks he takes her hand in his and crouches beside her. _"What are you playing at, eh?"_ He's soft and gentle. Loving and so, so desperate. _"Not you too, Iz. Not my Izzie."_ He's shaking his head and using his free hand to wipe his eyes with the sleeve of his rolled up shirt. _"God, please not you."_

And now his hand that is not entwined with hers is running through her hair, twisting it through his fingers as his lips press against her temple and his muffled whispers are lost through his sobs. Words she couldn't hear, pleas she couldn't answer.

It's late and he's tired and with every minute passing, the Doctors show less hope.

But he stays like this and he waits. He waits because she is his Izzie and she promised she would always make it better.

And he trusts her.

So he waits.


	2. Chapter 2

_And if you're homesick, give me your hand and I'll hold it _

_Two weeks later _

Izzie rolled her eyes as she stood by the bed, pushing Tom's hands away, _"I can dress meself ya know, Tom. I am capable!"_ She snapped, pulling on a clean jumper after a bit of a struggle. She watched as Tom raised his hands in defense, _"I'm only trying to help, Iz."_ He took a step back, sinking himself down into the chair beside her, _"You nearly died two weeks ago okay it's -" "Oh gee Tom, thanks for reminding me. Funnily enough I hadn't forgotten."_ She turned away from him again, shoving her things into her bag, ready to go.

She kept her back to him, looking up and blinking quickly, blocking out her tears. She could feel his eyes burning into her back, watching her every move. She couldn't bare it. Sympathetic looks. Concerned smiles. She survived. She was alive. Now she just wanted to forget.

Tom took a deep breath, knowing he couldn't afford to get snappy back with her when she was so fragile both physically and mentally. She wouldn't let him in, she wouldn't open up and tell him how she was feeling. The only time he got a glimpse of her fear was when she woke during the nights, stirring him from his uncomfortable sleep in the plastic chair beside her. She would sit up. Breathing heavy. Tears streaming. And he would climb up beside her, careful not to disturb her tender wound. His arms wrapped around her. A loving embrace. Just him soothing her until she settled in his arms.

He knew she hated feeling so useless. He knew Izzie better than anyone. The thought of being so reliant on other people made her feel degrading and annoyed. And now she had been placed in a situation where she simply had no other choice and Tom knew it was testing her to her limits.

And he could handle her short temper. Her quips. Her annoyance usually aimed at him. Heck, he could handle all of that ten times over if it mean he still got to hold her in his arms when she slept. If it meant he got to tenderly stroke his fingers through her hair and peck her lips lovingly in her short moments of care free happiness. In the short times she forgot. Watching her sleep with her chest softly rising and falling, a light rosy colour to her cheeks filled Tom's heart with hope because there had been times when he had thought he would never see that again. And he knew a part of him would have died with her. The very best part.

Izzie slowly turned back to him, sitting down on the edge of the hospital bed. She bit her lip, looking across at Tom, _"Can ya hurry that Doctor up please darlin'?"_ She spoke softer, her voice quiet and Tom knew that was her way of apologising, her own simple explanation. He nodded and stood from the chair, giving her a knowing smile before heading off to the Doctor, knowing how desperate she was to escape the restraints of the hospital ward.

Mostly he was excited to get her home. He wanted to hold and love her, make her feel safe again. He wanted to feel her body against his properly as they both lay in their bed, tangled up close for comfort. He hoped she'd let him in more, talk to him and share her fears. He hoped but he didn't expect.

Part of him though, was terrified. The hospital had been his safety net since she'd woken up. They'd kept her safe, they'd kept her where he could keep a close eye and ensure was okay. Without that, everything felt new and dangerous. As though she could slip away from him again at any time.

Tom would openly admit he'd never been so terrified as the night she lay lifelessly across the concrete playground.

But his secret was he still felt just as frightened the day he took her home.


End file.
